


The Healing Process

by totalizzyness



Series: 00Q Prompts [36]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totalizzyness/pseuds/totalizzyness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Bond has a difficult mission and Q comforts him.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Healing Process

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [The Healing Process](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1320814) by [AprilforSpring](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AprilforSpring/pseuds/AprilforSpring)



Bond couldn’t entirely pinpoint the moment he and Q came together; couldn’t quite remember the moment he found comfort in his Quartermaster’s arms.

He was sure it was after the not-entirely-successful mission where the target had shot dead three young girls in exchange for information. It wasn’t uncommon for Bond to find himself strapped to a chair whilst someone tried to extort information from him; however, it was usually at the expense of a woman he’d slept with whilst on mission, not three young innocent girls. He could usually handle being made to look in the eyes of the victim the moment before they were killed, he’d been trained for it; it was for Queen and country.

But the girls couldn’t have been older than six, not yet sullied by the misery of life, still innocent and full of optimism.

He could still see the terrified look in their eyes as they trembled in front of him, the barrel of a gun pressed to their temple, the target calmly telling Bond to reveal secrets or she’d die. He could still see the life leave their once bright eyes as the trigger was pulled.

Three of ten girls had been executed in front of him before back-up arrived; seven girls left haunted by the ordeal, their lives changed forever.

Bond could still see the haunted expressions of the girls when he shut his eyes. He couldn’t sleep, the whole experience replaying in his dreams. He drank; knocking back whiskeys on the flight home, only sleeping when his body succumbed to exhaustion. He was hungover during his debrief, dictating his report in an interview room.

He vaguely remembered stumbling down to Q branch, knowing Q had a bottle of whiskey and two glasses stashed in his office for when they got together for late-night talks, Q supposed to be working, Bond supposed to be writing a report. They’d drink and discuss life, pretending for a while the world wasn’t as dark and horrible as they knew it was.

He grabbed the bottle and a glass, sat himself at Q’s desk, pouring a glass and knocking it back, his throat now used to the burn before pouring another. He sat with his head in his hand, staring at the amber liquid, not noticing the door slide open. He looked up when he felt long slender fingers wrap around his wrist, Q tugging him to his feet.

“I’m so sorry,” Q sighed, enveloping Bond in a warm hug. Bond responded immediately, gripping onto Q tight enough to hurt, burying his face in his neck, letting out a long shakey breath. Q rubbed soothing circles into Bond’s back, resting his cheek against the side of his head.

He moved them over to the sofa in the corner, letting Bond curl up to his side, stroking his fingers through the agent’s cropped hair. Neither man said a word, Q keeping a protective hold over Bond until he fell asleep on his lap.

Bond didn’t remember how he got to Q’s flat, or what happened when they got there, only that he woke up undressed in a warm bed, an even warmer body curled around his own.

He rolled over, a sleepy Q was watching him. He quirked a sad smile, cupping Bond’s cheek in his palm, softly rubbing his thumb against his skin. Bond let out a quiet sigh, burrowing into Q’s arms, feeling safe, protected.

They eventually migrated from the bed to the kitchen, Q arranging breakfast for the two of them. Bond frowned when a bottle of whiskey was snatched from him.

“You’re under my care for the foreseeable future, Bond. I can’t morally let you drink yourself to death.”

Bond sighed, looking up at Q with tired eyes. “You’re not letting me drink?”

“You’re not drinking yourself to death. Maximum allowance for men is 4 units, that’s your allowance.”

“4 shots of whiskey a day? It won’t help.”

Q sighed, dropping down into the seat beside Bond, taking his hands in his own. “It’s not supposed to help, James. I’m not letting you drink your problems away.”

“Q-“

“Please, James. Let me help.”

Bond nodded reluctantly, letting Q crawl onto his lap and curl his arms around him. Bond let out a long, slow breath, hiding his face in Q’s chest, snaking his arms around his skinny waist and holding him close.

Bond stayed enclosed in Q’s flat for days, never leaving. He slept through most of the day; curled up in bed with Q’s body pressed against his back; on the sofa with his head pillowed on Q’s lap whilst he worked on his laptop; lying on the sofa with Q curled around him whilst some boring show played on the tv. He found comfort in Q’s company, he found acceptance in his body, the way it would mold around him, the way it would instinctively lean in to his touch, the warmth it always radiated.

Q monitored Bond’s alcohol intake, pouring his drinks and keeping the bottles locked in a safe of his own manufacturing. He tried to cook three healthy meals a day, but there was no guarantee Bond would eat.

He knew their relationship was changing as Bond took what he needed from Q, whether it was just his presence beside him whilst Bond read a book, or a string of lazy kisses in bed. They never progressed past heavy petting; Q knew Bond wasn’t healed enough to deal with a relationship, but he needed the affection, someone to give himself over to. They both did.

Two weeks since Bond’s return, he was called back in to headquarters for assessment. Q went with him, only leaving his side when Bond had his one-on-one with the psychologist, deciding to report down to his branch to see how things were going without him. He was surprised to see M waiting him.

“How’s he been?”

Q sighed, sitting down by his desk. “Not good, obviously.”

M nodded, humming his agreement. “It doesn’t take an idiot to realise his PTSD has finally kicked in.”

“He’s getting better. At life. He’s gone from a steady four units a day to three; he’s eating and sleeping regularly, he’s just… not the same. It’s haunting him still.”

“How do you think he’d take being relieved from field duty?”

“Permanently?”

“Yes.”

“Not well. He’ll fight, he’ll argue. He’ll lie, he’ll pass your tests because he knows what’s required of him. He’ll work himself to death, become a burnt out version of the man he once was… He’ll bounce back, sir. I think he’s hit bottom, he needs to work his way back up. It’ll take time and effort, he still needs monitoring, he may need medication but… he’ll do it, sir. He’s strong.”

M smiled meekly, steepling his fingers underneath his chin. “You have a lot of faith in him.”

“I can’t afford not to. Besides, he’s earnt it.”

“Very well. I’ll release him back into your custody. You’ll be required to file a weekly report, and only on your recommendation will we consider him back for active duty.”

Q nodded. “That’s fine.”

“This is quite the burden you’re undertaking. You know he’s not your responsibility…”

“I know, sir, I don’t mind. Bond doesn’t have many people who care for him.”

“Don’t get in over your head, Quartermaster; Bond doesn’t… do well with love.”

Q frowned, chewing his lip awkwardly. “I don’t-“

“Please, Q. I know the look of someone in love.”

“Yes sir,” Q sighed; he knew there was no use arguing, his poker face was atrocious. M forced a smile and pulled himself up, clapping Q on the shoulder and left. Q slipped his glasses from his nose, running a hand over his face. After taking a few moments to compose himself, Q logged onto his computer, checking the progress of some of the high priority projects and nipped into the labs to speak to the minions. He wasn’t aware of how long he’d taken until he got a text from James asking where he was. He barked a few orders at his assistants and rushed out, hurrying up several flights of stairs to the psychologists’ offices. Bond was sat in one of the armchairs outside, body rigid, his hands on his knees. Q knelt in front of him, smiling softly and took his hands.

 

“Ready to go?”

James nodded, letting Q pull him up. “Can I have a drink?”

“When we get home.”

They walked through the corridors leaning into each other, Q trying to ignore the sad looks employees gave them. They hopped into a taxi and hurried home, Q bustling Bond through the front door, sitting him at the kitchen table.

“What do you want for dinner?” Q asked, peering in the fridge. Bond shrugged, slouching back in his seat.

“Nothing with avocado.”

Q chuckled, pulling out cuts of ham and lettuce. “I’ve already apologised for that, James. Maybe next time you’ll tell me when you don’t like a certain food.”

“I thought it was a fact that avocado is disgusting.”

“Don’t harp on about it, the avocado was destroyed, you don’t have to taste it again.”

 

“Good. You’re supposed to be looking after me, Q.”

“Trying my best, I’ve never dealt with a toddler in an adult’s body before.”

James cracked a smile, reaching out to curl his fingers around Q’s wrist, pulling him closer. Q smiled, cupping Bond’s cheek with his free hand. Bond let out a content sigh, snaking his arms around Q’s waist, burying his face in his stomach; Q ran his fingers through Bond’s hair, holding him close, thinking about what M had said.

Bond pulled away, peering up at Q; his eyes were tired but Q could see life was coming back to them, a huge improvement on the blank, empty stares he’d gotten when Bond had first returned. He leant down, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead and returned to making their dinner, pouring James a glass of scotch, putting it on the table in front of him. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Bond pulled the glass closer to him, but didn’t knock it back instantly.

“After you’ve eaten, I’ll run you a bath, and you can shave off that horrible stubble.”

“My stubble is fine.”

“It’s scratchy.”

“You shave it, then.”

Q looked to Bond, thrilled to see the playful challenging smirk he was giving him, just like he used to. He smirked back, placing his dinner on the table. “I might.”

Whilst James ate, Q went to the bathroom to run a bath, setting out James’ razor and soap. He’d had to bathe James several times when he’d first come to stay, not trusting the agent to not accidentally drown himself, and now, even though capable to do it himself, James insisted Q join him in the bathroom, letting Q massage shampoo into his scalp. They both enjoyed the time spent together, passing a cigarette back and forth, Bond letting the water relax him whilst Q sat next to the bath on his laptop.

Once the bath was full, Q went to fetch James and his laptop. “Tell me if the water’s too hot,” Q muttered, dragging an extension lead through the door whilst James was stood in the middle of the bathroom, unbuckling his belt. “I’m not trying to boil you. Don’t be too self-hating to add some cold in.”

“It’ll be fine, Q. You’ve never drawn me a too-hot bath.”

“Yes, well, first time for everything.”

Bond silently lowered himself into the water, Q sitting himself down on the closed toilet lid, booting up his laptop. James let out a quiet sigh, eyes closed as he rest his head back; Q watched fondly, M’s earlier words echoing around his head.

“Light me a cig, will you, darling?”

Q laughed, reaching across to the sink to grab the packet of cigarettes. “Darling? That’s new.”

“I can’t very well call you ‘Q’ all the time.”

“You can.” Q lit a cigarette, taking a quick puff himself before slipping it between James’ fingers. “Or you could actually ask what my name is.”

Bond cracked an eye open, smirking at Q. “I can’t, it goes against protocol. I’ll just stick with pet names.”

“Very well… Did the doctor say anything enlightening?”

“Nope.” James blew the smoke out of his mouth slowly, his eyelids sliding shut. “Same old drivel. Something about you saving my life, potential problems of me becoming dependent on you, suggested I look into a less stressful career.”

Q nodded, plucking the cigarette from James’ fingers. “I don’t see you becoming dependent on me as a problem, I think it’s about time you let someone in, even if it’s just to make sure you eat three meals a day and get a steady four hours.”

“I’m sure the general requirement is eight hours.”

“Not if you’re James Bond. You either sleep six intermittently or nineteen where I’m actually afraid you’ve slipped into a coma. Four is a good start.”

James chuckled. “I’m glad it’s you looking after me… not that I’d trust anyone else.”

“Yes, imagine what life with Mallory would be like.”

“The bastard would probably make me eat avocado.”

Q couldn’t help but laugh, reaching out to brush his fingers through Bond’s hair. “I’ve missed this.”

“Missed what? You watch me bathe all the time.”

“This. Talking to you. Laughing with you. The old you.”

Bond smiled sadly, motioning for Q to pass the cigarette back. “I feel myself getting better. Some days I don’t want to get out of bed, or I just want to drink… then I think about how disappointed you’d be if I gave up, and… it actually motivates me.”

“That’s… that’s good.”

“Anyway,” James cleared his throat. “This stubble of mine.”

Q nodded, understanding Bond didn’t want to “talk” anymore. He pressed play on Bond’s favourite blues album and placed his laptop down away from the bath, grabbing the soap and razor, sitting on the edge of the bath. He was always careful shaving Bond, never once cutting him or leaving a small patch of hair.

After shaving, Q dove straight into washing Bond’s hair, secretly loving the way Bond’s eyes would close as he worked the shampoo into his scalp, letting out quiet, pleased breaths. He almost fell into the bath when he felt a warm, wet hand curl around his thigh, making him jump. He laughed nervously, pressing his sudsy finger into James’ ear as punishment.

“I’m sorry, my dear, did I scare you?” James laughed, wiping away the soap.

“I almost fell in!”

“You should join me, the water’s nice and warm.”

“Maybe another day… when you’re not overcoming a serious amount of post-traumatic stress.”

Bond slipped beneath the water, running his fingers through his hair to rinse away the shampoo, before popping back up. “Promise?”

Q grinned, wiping away some of the water from James’ face. “I promise.”

James smiled, reaching up to cup Q’s cheek, pulling him down into a soft kiss. “More incentive for me to heal, I suppose.”

“If you want to see it that way, yes.”

—

Q was taking a few moments to himself to get some work done whilst Bond slept beside him when there was a knock on his door. He frowned, pausing to see if he’d just been hearing things; the only visitor Q ever had was currently in his bed. There was another knock on the door, a little louder, followed by, “Q, it’s Eve!”

He quickly pulled on his pyjama bottoms and went to answer the door; Eve looked quite flustered. “Is everything okay?”

“M needs you at headquarters. He’s sent me to look after Bond whilst you’re there.”

“Can’t James come with-”

“Afraid not.”

Q nodded, letting Eve in and rushed back to the bedroom, getting dressed. Back in the living room, Eve was nosing around, looking at all of his things; Q remembered it was the first time she’d been in his flat. She forced a smile at Q, slipping her hands into her coat pockets.

“So, is there anything I need to know?”

Q frowned. “God, you have no idea…” He found a spare piece of paper and grabbed a pen, beckoning Eve over to the table as he began scribbling a list. “He’s asleep now but he should be awake within the hour; there’s a chance he’ll freak out when he finds out I’m gone, please do your best to tell him I’ll be back soon, don’t panic him. Never leave him by himself, except to use the bathroom of course. He should be very compliant, he usually sits on the sofa all day — sit next to him, he likes human contact. He might want to fall asleep on your lap, let him.”

Eve nodded, eyes wide as she watched Q scribble everything down.

“Make him lunch at half twelve, something healthy, there’s plenty in the fridge. He may not eat it but ask him to try if he doesn’t. If he doesn’t, leave it. Same again with dinner at five if I’m not back. He’s on four units of alcohol a day. Just four. He prefers scotch, so that’s four shots, only. If he asks for anything else, google it or text me, and don’t let him try to talk you into any more than four. He’s allowed snacks, don’t have the TV on too loud, be careful of what he watches — nothing too violent or anything. He’ll most likely just read and nap all day. He had a good day, yesterday, so he shouldn’t be too fussy, but if there’s any problem at all, ring me.”

“Wow, you do this every day?”

Q forced a smile, checking he had everything important written down. “It’s fine once you get into a routine. James needs routine, please stick to it.”

“No, sure, it’s fine… I didn’t think he’d be so willing to let someone look after him.”

“Only me… which might be a problem. He’ll probably be wary of you, just… reassure him. If you can’t find common ground, say something about M being a bastard, he should ease up.”

Eve laughed, pulling Q to his feet. “Got it. Now go, they need you desperately, got themselves into a right tizz.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Q checked everything was in order and he had what he needed before rushing down to the waiting car, hoping desperately that Bond wasn’t due for another bad day.

He was finally able to stumble home ten hours later, exhausted from cleaning up the gigantic mess Q-Branch had gotten itself into in his absence. He quietly shut the door behind him, toeing off his shoes and dropped his bag and coat at his feet. The flat was silent, putting him on edge as he padded through to the living room. He heaved a sigh of relief when he saw Eve sat on the sofa reading, a cushion on her lap, Bond fast asleep across her. She smiled up at him, putting the book down.

“All sorted?”

“Barely. How’s he been?”

Eve’s smile fell. “I don’t know, really… Fine, I guess.”

“Fine, you guess?”

“Well, he ate his food, only had three scotches, but he’s been very distant. This is the first time all day he’s come close to me. It’s like… I could see he wanted to get close to me, wanted contact with another body but… I wasn’t you. So he’s been in the armchair most of the day.”

Q nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Okay… But other than that, good? He didn’t fight you on anything?”

Eve shook her head, gently easing herself from under Bond’s head, setting the cushion down so he wouldn’t wake. “No, like you said, very compliant. We had a short chat about what’s going on at work over dinner, he occasionally mumbled things to himself, but y’know… It’s quite heartbreaking to see him like this.”

“It is. You should have seen him before.” Q went over to the sofa, kneeling in front of James, softly running his fingers through his hair. James stirred, shifting into Q’s touch. Eve stood back, arms folded across her chest as she watched fondly. Bond’s eyes cracked open, he peered up at Q.

“Q?”

Q smiled, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “Yes, I’m back.”

James managed a smile, winding his arm around Q’s waist, pulling him closer. “Leaving me for ten hours isn’t looking after me.”

“I’m sorry, it was unavoidable. Be thankful Eve was sent to replace me.”

“I suppose.”

Q pressed a kiss to the top of James’ head, brushing his fingers through his hair. “Your hair’s getting a bit long, should we do something about it?”

James huffed into Q’s chest, his fingers tightening in his clothes. “No, leave it. I’ll be fine so long as it doesn’t get longer than yours.”

Laughing, Q pressed another kiss to his head. “Very well. Go back to sleep, James, I’m not going anywhere.”

Bond rolled over to face the back of the sofa; Q grabbed a blanket draped over the back and threw it over James before turning back to Eve. He narrowed his eyes at her smile.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just… sweet.”

“What is?”

Eve just chuckled, leading the way through to the kitchen; Q cast a quick glance back at James before following.

“What’s sweet?”

“How in love you two are,” Eve sighed, helping herself to a glass of water.

“What do you mean, us  _two_?”

“What do  _you_  mean?”

Q sighed, slumping against the fridge. “It’s quite obvious… how I feel about him. I mean, you don’t go to all this effort for someone you simply like as a friend… But James doesn’t-”

“Yes he does. It may take him a while to actually realise he loves you, but, he does. Quite deeply. Even before… this, he had a thing for you. Trust me. He told me. He didn’t know how to go about romancing you, but he wanted to. So if anything good comes from this whole issue, it’ll be you two.”

The corners of Q’s lips quirked upwards, he hid his mouth behind his hand, hoping Eve wouldn’t notice. “I suppose I hope so.”

Eve grinned. “You’re arse over tit for him… Go on, go to him, I’ll let myself out.”

Q chuckled, pushing himself up from his seat and wandered through to the living room. He poked and prodded at James until he woke enough to allow Q to lie on the sofa with him, the two men curling in on each other, legs tangled and arms wrapped tightly around the other. James huffed out a content sigh, pressing a chaste kiss to Q’s neck.

“Love you.”

Q’s breath caught in his throat; he looked down at the man in his arms. “What was that?”

James said nothing, moaning quietly as he fell back asleep. Q smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“I love you too.”


End file.
